Maggie May
by thebeatlesthighs
Summary: For Margaret Hargreaves Liverpool is a cruddy town with no potential at all. For George Harrison it's a way to make music. When Margaret meets George one day in 1953, a friendship blossoms into more. Will their love outlast Beatlemania or will will forever be Star-Crossed lovers? M for Language and Sexual Innuendos.
1. Meet the Beatles

**Maggie May**

**Chapter One: ****Meet the Beatles**  


**February 29, 1953**

Margaret Guinevere Hargreaves had never belonged anywhere. Her former grammar school in London wasn't welcoming. The school she went to for a few months in Stratford wasn't either. Why should an orphanage in Liverpool be any different? She had been in this cruddy place for six months and so far had proven less than satisfactory. Margaret spent the recreation hour meandering around the perimeter fence observing the other children, wishing beyond all wishes she hadn't been shipped here. What Margaret wanted more than anything was to have her mother back. Her mum had passed away of Consumption seven months ago and a little more than a month later Margaret was here.

Aunt Bethie had sent Margaret to the cheapest and ugliest all girls orphanage she could find. Here, if a girl wasn't adopted by fifteen they were bussed to an abbey and became a postulant. The postulant life wasn't one that Margaret wanted for herself but what other choice did she have? No one was going to adopt a nearly ten year old and she couldn't make it in the world by herself at fifteen.

Knowing her fate, Margaret continued her walk around the fence. Hearing a 'hey' from the other said of said fence, she stopped. She looked in the direction of the sound and saw a boy with thick eyebrows and a head covered in dark brown curls.

"Hey," Margaret answered and the boys' face broke out into a large smile.

He thrust his hand through a break in the fence and offered it to Margaret. "My name is George. George Harrison," he said in a very thick northern accent.

"Margaret Hargreaves," she said, shaking George's offered hand.

His smile widened. "That's quite a name you've got there."

"I reckon I'll grow into it," Margaret said, defiantly.

"Yeah, in fifteen or so years," George laughed.

"Well, Master Harrison, what do you suggest," Margaret asked him, hands on her hips.

George chuckled. "One, it's Mister now, as I've just turned ten. And two, Maggie."

"Happy belated birthday and Maggie? What on earth kind of name is Maggie?"

"The kind of name I'm going to call you."

Margaret scrunched up her nose. "I don't like it."

"Well, I'm not calling you Margaret. It's too old sounding and you are not old," George said, crossing his arms. "When you're old enough to be called Margaret, I'll call you Margaret. Deal?"

Margaret smiled and nodded her head before saying, "You're the first person to do as much as look at me in the six months I've been here."

George's smile faded. "How long have you been a…y'know."

"My father died in 1944 on D-Day and Mum died seven months ago of consumption. My aunt, charming woman really, sent me here rather than raise me herself. "

"If she hadn't you wouldn't know me," George said, making Margaret smile.

"Humble too, I see. A very becoming quality to have in a young man such as yourself."

George laughed along with Margaret. "Where are you from, Maggie?"

"I was born on May 11, 1943 in London. Mum and I moved in with Aunt Bethie about a year ago. She lives in the Stratford countryside so the air was better for Mum's lungs. Mum passed away eight months of living there." Just then the bell rang signifying the end of recreation hour. "Sorry, George. I've got to go."

"Talk to you tomorrow," he asked hopefully.

Margaret smiled at him. "You bet."

* * *

**Four Years Later**

**May 05, 1957**

"George Harrison, you're not listening to me, are you? She won't let me go."

George's heavy eyebrows raised. "How do you know until you ask her?"

George was trying to convince me to ask Madam Tolbert to let me go with him to the carnival that he and his bandmates were playing at tomorrow night.

"Because, Harrison, only the fourteen year olds are allowed to go to the carnival and I'm not fourteen yet."

"Bully that. What difference will six days make?"

"Geore, she's the devil's advocate. Tolly runs this place like a penitentiary. Six days makes a great deal of a difference."

George huffed. "You should still ask her. If you won't I will and you don't want me to ask."

I smiled. "You wouldn't ask her, George. You'd steal me."

"You can't steal something that's willing to go," he said sardonically.

"Okay, smarty-pants. You'd borrow me without permission."

"Yes, I would," he said nodding his head. "And that wouldn't turn out well for either of us so just ask her already. "

"Okay, I will," I said matter-of-factly, turning on my heel and marching to the orphanage leaving George laughing behind me.

* * *

"Didn't I tell you, Mags?"

"I didn't peg you for an "I told you so" kind of guy, George."

George flashed me a smile. "Always full of surprises, aren't I?"

I scoffed but said nothing as I was too busy clinging to George's proffered arm taking in everything Liverpool had to offer. I hadn't stepped outside the schoolyard in four years so Liverpool was a big deal; though George kept assuring me it wasn't all that intriguing. George paid our entrance fee and I released his arm to walk around separately. He bought us popcorn and played some game, that he won, and gave me a white stuffed bear. Around two o'clock we split a vanilla malted and each had a piggy in a blanket.

"What time do you go on?"

George checked his watch. "Not for an hour and half."

"Should you try to find your mates and warm up or anything?"

Instead of George, another male voice answered me. "He doesn't have to. We found him."

George received four claps on the back as George surreptitiously removed his straw from the malted we were sharing. He cleared his throat. "Maggie, this here is John Lennon," George started, gesturing to the bloke that had interrupted me. "He plays rhythm guitar and the mouth organ."

John Lennon had a long nose, light brown hair and a cocky smile. "It's nice to meet you, Maggie."

"Same," I smiled at him.

George continued by gesturing to the young lad behind his chair. "This is Paul McCartney another guitarist. I've told you about him before, I think."

"Yes, and it's nice to finally put a face to the name," I answered and Paul ruffled George's curls.

"You've been talking me up eh, Georgie?"

George rolled his eyes and continued the introductions. "Mags, this is Pete Shotton, our washboard player."

The blonde boy averted my eyes and blushed crimson. "I didn't know how to play anything else," he mumbled.

I smiled. "You don't have to feel embarrassed, Pete. Piano players like us don't have any place in a rock group."

His head shot up. "How did you know I played the piano?"

"I didn't; you just told me," I giggled.

Pete smirked and nodded as George continued. "This is Stuart Sutcliffe, our bassist."

"Pleasure, Miss."

"You too, Stuart."

Stuart shook his head. "Stu, please."

"Stu it is."

George gestured to the boy behind me. "Last but not lease is Peter Best, our drummer."

I made to say something nice and welcoming to him like I had the others but Peter cut me off. "You didn't tell us your girl was so pretty, Georgie."

I tensed up a bit at the closeness of Peter to myself and I saw George eyeing him suspiciously. "Guys this is Maggie, my _neighbor."_

"You fancy your neighbor? How adorable." I could tell by the way he was talking and slurring his words together that Peter was drunk. Everyone else knew this too.

"Pete," John chided. "George lives next door to an orphanage. Nothing against you, Maggie," he said quickly, trying to rectify the mistake he thought he made.

"No, it's okay. Awful as it is to say, I'm used to it. It's been four years."

"You're a southie, are you," Peter asked me, his nose nearly touching my left cheek. "George there is a law against Limey's in the Liverpool carnival."

"Pete," Paul said. "That's enough."

But Peter wasn't listening to his younger peer. He was now very close to me and I tried to pull away but he just moved every time I moved. "You're all invading up here, Limey girl. Why don't you just go home where you belong and leave us all alone?" I closed my eyes and counted to ten backwards. I wasn't going to cry in front of five men, one of whom was so pissed he could barely stand still. "Oh, that's right. You haven't got a home have you?"

I turned my head to face Peter. "You talk an awful lot of shit for someone who hasn't said a thing."

If I had known what would happen after that comment I would've kept my mouth shut. Peter looked shocked for a moment before taking his beer off the table and throwing it in my face, soaking me and my dress. This caused George to knock over the table and jump on Peter, knocking them both to the ground. George started pounding a clenched fist onto Peter's jaw. Pete and Stu pulled their young guitarist off of their drunken drummer, holding George's arms behind him.

John pulled Peter up off the muddy ground. "Get out."

"How're you going to drum without me," Peter asked, wiping blood off of his lip.

"There are other drummer's here with skills better than your lack luster ones. You're drunk. Get out of here before I tell Pete and Stu to let George go. Peter spit onto John's shoes and stalked off. "Pussy," John said turning towards me. I hadn't moved a muscle since the beer had splashed on my face. I was too shocked to move. I was too scared to move. Paul had moved to my side and put a hand on my shoulder. "You alright, Maggie," John asked.

"Let me go," George said, taking in my condition. Stu and Pete looked wearily at each other. "I'm fine, mate. I'm not in attack mode anymore. Let me go." Stu and Pete released him and George knelt into the mud in front of me. "Mags, you alright, darling?"

I felt myself start to shake from the tears that were threatening to overflow. I started to cry then and George put his arms around me protectively. I felt Paul's thumb stroking my shoulder. "I'm sorry, George," I sobbed into George's shoulder.

"You did nothing wrong," he whispered into my hair.

"I egged him on. I encouraged it," I said burying my head into Georges' shoulder.

I heard John speak. "Should I get Cyn?"

George nodded and, not knowing who or what a Cyn was, I stayed were I was. I felt a hand press a hanky into my palm. Opening my eyes I saw it was Pete, the washboard player.

"What's going on," a female voice asked. I looked up into the most gorgeous pair of green eyes I had ever seen. The owner of these eyes, smiled consolingly. "You've met Peter haven't you?" I sniffed and nodded, wiping Pete's hanky under my eyes. "My first meeting with him ended similarly. She took in my dress. "Beer," she asked John, who nodded.

Cyn helped me up and dried off my face with the hanky. "Cynthia Powell, at your service."

"Margaret Hargreaves—Maggie."

"Well, Margaret Hargreaves Maggie, come with me. I'll get you cleaned up in time to our boys play." I tried to protest that George wasn't my boy when she continued. "Not that the boys belong to us but I like to think of them all as _my _boys. It drives them mad."

I offered Pete's hanky to him as I passed him. "Keep it," he said. "You need it more than I do."

* * *

**George's POV**

Cyn took Maggie towards the loos while Pete went in search of a drummer. "Damn, Peter. Why does he do that?"

Paul was righting the table I had knocked over in my haste to get at Peter's throat. "He does it because he was raised that women are inferior to men and are our property and deserve to be treated as such."

John looked over at me. "Sorry I stole your moment, George. I was afraid you would've killed him."

Feeling angrier than I ever had before in my life I said, "I wanted to, believe me."

Stu sat down next to me. "She's a firecracker though, isn't she?"

Paul smirked. "She fits in to the group well."

"Bring her round more often, Harry," John said. "I approve."

I raised my eyebrows. "I wasn't looking for your approval, Johnny, but thanks."

We all made our way to the stage area, where Pete and a large nosed boy were standing waiting for us. John raced ahead and hugged the boy. "Ringo," he all but screamed.

"John Lennon, look at you," the boy—Ringo-said.

"Could you play kit for us, today? Our drummer is currently—absent."

Ringo shrugged. "What songs are you playing?"

"20 Flight Rock, Hound Dog, That'll Be the Day, Moovin and Groovin and George's finishing us with Raunchy," John said, ticking the songs off on his fingers.

"Sounds easy, Lennon. Why don't you challenge me," Ringo joked, sitting down on the stool behind the kit.

We all got set up and tuned our guitars. We played the half of each song at half volume. About twenty minutes later, Cyn and Maggie came into our sights. Maggie had changed into a yellow blouse and denim petal pushers. (Belonging to Cyn, as Maggie didn't own petal pushers). Cyn disappeared somewhere with John as Maggie approached me.

"I like her," she said with a smile.

"We're all fond of her too. She's John's girl but she's like a sister to all of us."

Maggie cocked her head to the side. "I didn't peg John for a one girl one guy type of bloke."

"Well, surprises are running rampant today aren't they?"

We smiled at each other. Maggie lifted her hand to my cheek. "He got a hit on George. Your eye is black and blue."

I took her hand away from my face and looked into her hazel eyes. I brought her hand to my lips and gently kissed every fingertip separately. "I saw that in the cinema once and always wanted to try it," I smirked and let her hand drop.

"You're a rat underneath, aren't you?" Maggie slapped my cheek playfully and gave me her signature half grin.

"Enjoy the show," I said getting up from the edge of the stage. She backed up into the crowd and stood next to Cyn and some of Cynthia's friends from the institute.

I couldn't distinguish whether the fluttering in my stomache came from imagining Maggie's smile while I kissed her fingers or from my own nerves. We played brilliantly either way.

* * *

A/N: let me know what you think of this little story i've got going. more chapters or is it good as a one shot?


	2. Saw Her Standing There

**Maggie May**

**Chapter Two: Saw Her Standing There  
**

**October 01, 1957**

* * *

**Maggie POV  
**

Now that I was fourteen I had more leeway at the orphanage. I was able to go out on weekends and hang out with George. I went to some of their rehearsals when they practiced at George's. Louise and Harold were really kind to the boys and me. Cyn came sometimes too and her and I would talk and gossip together. She showed me the promise ring that John had given her not three days previously and was almost in tears telling me about it.

We then turned our attention to the boys then as John had started singing "Maggie May" very loudly and out of tune while everyone put their instruments away. John came over to the sofa that Cyn and I were occupying and put his arm around my shoulder and told me what a 'dirty, no good, robbing' person I was. I just smiled and nodded my head agreeing with everything he said. The band members all laughed at John's antics. After he was finished I clapped along with everyone else and patted his head like a dog.

Sticking his tongue out at me, he switched to Cyn's side. "That was for you, Mags."

"Well, I figured that much as I am Maggie and my birthday is in May."

George sat down next to me; Paul lit himself of the arm of the sofa next to John, while Pete, the washboard player, took the other arm. Stu pulled Peter's drum stool over (Peter left as soon as rehearsal was over) and sat down. "Say, Paulie," John started.

"Yes, Johnny?"

"Why don't you have a girl here on this sofa to cuddle with?"

George and I looked at each other. "For the last time, Lennon," I started. "I'm not George's girl."

John rolled his eyes. "You're here all the time, you spend every moment not spent in school with each other, you share inside jokes with each other that the rest of us don't get to hear…you might as well be courting each other."

George sighed. "Haven't you ever heard of being mates with someone, John?"

"Yes, but I make it a point to not be mates with females."

I looked at him confused. "Why? Are you afraid of them?"

The boys all laughed albeit John. "No. I just think a bloke and a bird can't be mates without there being some sort of sexual drive behind it."

All of us laughed at him. Cyn recovered first. "Rude! That is the most anti-feminist statement I have ever heard."

I nodded my agreement. "I, too, think that. The only reason the aforementioned statement would happen is because the male couldn't control himself. "

"Now who's being rude," Stu asked.

I stuck my tongue out at him and the subject was dropped for Louise had come down the stairs offering snacks and cola. "How was practice, boys?" The guys nodded in affirmation as they couldn't talk with food in their mouths. "Maggie, Madame Tolbert is on the telephone for you, dear."

I nodded and took a sandwich off the tray. Going over to the corner of the room, I picked up their black, rotary dial phone. "Hello?"

"Margaret, I have a couple from Preston here and they want to foster you. Come quick," she said and hung up.

I blinked twice before slowly putting the phone back on the cradle. I must have looked confused for Cyn asked, "What's wrong?"

"There is a couple at the orphanage that wants to foster me."

John smiled. "But that's great!"

"No, not exactly. They're from Preston," I said sullenly.

"Oh," John said, his eyes conveying sadness.

I squared my shoulders. "Don't anyone worry. They'll bring me back."

"Why," Pete Shotton asked.

"I'll ask them to. I can't stay away from my mates too long can I," I asked with a smile.

Stu looked at me. "Why don't you not go with them at all?"

"I'm not cottoning on."

"Well, just say no. Don't go with them."

I rolled my eyes. "If I don't go, I'll be kicked out of the orphanage. Where will I go then?"

George looked at me. "You could stay here," he offered.

Louise turned to look at me properly. She took my hands in her own. "I miss my daughter since she went to travel the world. It would be nice to have a girl in the house again. I know how Ingrid runs that orphanage. I know that if you're not adopted or fostered by fifteen you're bussed to an abbey. I don't want to see you go there. George is right. You can stay here with us, if you wanted."

For the first time in four years, I knew what it felt like to have a mother. Looking into the brown eyes of my best friends' mother I knew that I had family after all. "Louise, it's not that I don't appreciate this really, I just don't think I could—"

"Stop talking such nonsense, my dear. You are already part of this family. You're welcome anytime," Louise said, hugging me tight. "Now, George, walk this lovely girl to the orphanage. She has people waiting for her."

George got up and walked behind me as I went up the stairs and through the kitchen. He offered me my coat and then opened the door for me. As we walked the short distance to the orphanage gate George held my hand in his gloved hand. "John wants you to go to his party on the ninth. You want to go?"

"John wants me to go yet you're inviting me? What is wrong with this picture?"

George sighed. "He's shy. He probably figured I'd invite you and bring you with me. But I thought by saying he wanted you to go that it'd convince you to go then asking you to go with me."

I smiled and squeezed his hand. "Of course I'll be there—if I'm still here that is."

George spun me to look at him. "If this is to be the last time I see you, I want to give you something."

"George," I started, but George cut me off. He leaned down and pressed his lips to mine.

I'm not an expert on kissing but I was sure it wasn't supposed to feel like this. It felt like nothing at all. I felt absolutely nothing. I stood stock still until George pulled back.

Then I slapped his face.

"What the bloody hell was that for," he asked, rubbing where I had just hit him.

"You took advantage of me!"

"No, please, no bloody tears, please!"

"I'll cry when I want to cry, George Harrison! I'm going to go into that orphanage and maybe never see you again in this lifetime and you kiss me," I shrieked at him.

"I didn't do it to take advantage of you," he said, trying to reason with me.

I put my hands on my hips. "You remember what John said earlier? That it's impossible to have a girl mate when you're a boy? You just proved why he was right," I spat into his face before turning away from him.

"Maggie," he pleaded with me. "I don't want the last thing we say to each other to be harmful, fighting words."

"If I ever forgive you, I'll send a note," and with that I walked away from him.

* * *

**George POV**

**October 09, 1957**

It ended up she stayed. In the end the couple decided not to foster her. In the end she went to John's birthday party. I knew she was there as soon as I walked in the door. I could feel her gazing at me. I ignored this and walked into Mimi and John's house to congratulate my mate.

"Happy birthday, John; seventeen, eh?"

John smiled at me. "Thanks." He looked past me into his living room. "Can I ask why Maggie and you aren't talking?"

"We had—we had a row the other night when I was walking her to the orphanage," I said averting my eyes from John's face.

"You mean the dynamic duo has found a flow in their unbreakable partnership?"

"Yeah, well it's not something that needs to be harped upon, "I said, hoping he would take the hint.

"What did you row about," he asked not taking the hint.

Whispering softly I said, "I kissed her."

John spluttered his coke. "YOU DID WHAT?"

"Say it a little louder, John, people in China didn't hear you," I said at first. Then, "I kissed her because it could've been the last time I saw her and I wanted her to have my first kiss. She didn't see it that way and went spare on me." By this time John had given up trying to hold his laughter in and was silently giggling at me. "You can laugh, it's fine; but that girl hurts when she smacks you."

John recovered and got serious, an emotion I didn't think he could convey. "You two will make up, George. She's a girl, you took her by surprise. Do you realize how many pointless arguments Cyn and I have gotten into in the past six months?"

"How do you know we'll make up? What if she stays mad at me forever?"

"She won't," John said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "You are two halves of one whole. You're best friends. Nothing like this will break you up for too long. She loves you, y'know."

I looked up into his light brown eyes. "She does not!"

"Not in the romantic sort of way, idiot. But she loves you. And you love her," he said ending the conversation. Paul had just walked in and John went over to greet him.

Paul however ignored John and came to me instead. "George, it's Maggie; she's been hurt." My mind suddenly froze. All I could think was: _my God, she's hurt _and nothing else. Some people in the room were gasping, other's looked befuddled. Me; I wager I looked completely motionless.

"What happened," I heard Cyn ask, clinging to John's arm.

"Well," Paul started. "Maggie was out on the back porch. Pete had had one too many drinks and was pissed drunk as usual. He saw her standing there and jumped her."

My mind reeled back into reality. "He did what," I asked, trying to keep my temper.

"Yeah, she's pretty shaken up," Paul said, not hearing me.

Suddenly, I screamed in frustration, making towards the back door. I heard John shout out my name and felt a hand graze my own, trying to stop me. When I exited the back door my heart stopped.

My Maggie May was sitting in the corner of the porch, knees drawn up to her chest, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were fixated on the concrete in front of her. One of her blue sandals was lying on the ground, the straps broken. She had a pretty long scratch on her temple and a rip in her yellow jumper revealed a gash on her bicep that was still bleeding. Her chestnut hair was mussed on the right side of her head and her lipstick was smudged, her mascara running with her tears down her cheeks. I felt tears springing to my eyes as guilt washed over me.

I knelt down on my haunches in front of her and tilted her chin up to meet my eyes. "Maggie," I asked gently.

"George," she said, sniffing. "George, I need you," she whimpered, burying her head in my shoulder. Hearing her say my name through her tears over and over again, made the tears in my own eyes run quicker and faster down my face.

"Maggie, I'm so sorry," I said, trying to fix her hair with my shaking hands.

Maggie pulled away and looked at me. "You're sorry? You didn't do anything wrong, George. Pete did."

"No, Maggie. If I hadn't kissed you that night, we would've come together. You wouldn't have gone off on your own. This wouldn't have happened."

"You don't know that any more than I do," She said. I caught a tear running down her cheek and our eyes finally met. Even through all she'd been through tonight, her eyes still sparkled. You didn't need light to see her face when a small smile broke out onto it. Maggie was, and forgive me for lacking a better word to describe her by, beautiful.

She had smooth, alabaster skin, bright hazel eyes, a small button nose and lips a natural shade of pink. Her smile was perfect, though her teeth were not. She had one dimple on her left cheek when she smiled and I pointed it out as often as I could. When Maggie laughed, everyone did, it was that infectious. After a while of laughing she'd snort making her laugh even more. To some people her snorting would be annoying and raucous but to me, it was endearing and a reason to love her even more.

Wait, love her? Where did that come from? I mean, John had pointed out that we loved each other in a non-romantic way earlier but I think I may love her; I may be in love with Maggie. Not that that is a bad thing; awkward, yes, but not bad.

"What are you thinking about in there, Harry," Maggie asked.

I brushed a lock of her chestnut hair out of her eyes, sweeping it behind her ears. "How beautiful you are."

She scoffed and rolled her eyes. "I look atrocious."

"You don't, you know," I said softly, cradling her face in my hands.

"George," she whispered and I lost it.

I dipped my head to meet her lips. Unlike the first kiss we shared, this one sent shocks of an electric current through my body and took my breath away. I felt as if firecrackers were going off all around us. John's house could catch on fire and we wouldn't be any the wiser.

* * *

A/N: part two. what do you think?


	3. Eight Days A Week

**Maggie May**

**Chapter Three: Eight Days a Week**

**May 11, 1968**

My birthday dawned horribly. At midnight, I awoke to the sound of a loud knock on the orphanage door. I heard Tolly grumbling down the hall about the time of the morning the knock was coming at. I opened my door enough to see into the hallway leading to the stairwell. Tolly answered the door and I heard a familiar voice.

"Where's Maggie," one male voice asked.

"She's asleep," I heard Tolly answer.

Another male voice continued. "Can we see her?"

"No, I'm afraid she is asleep and when she gets up she will be shipped off to the abbey.

The first voice continued. "I am aware of this. That's why we're all here; to take her away from you."

"You're not taking her anywhere," Tolly recanted.

A third voice joined in then. "Ingrid, please. We're taking her now. George, go get her."

I was saved! George, Louise and Harold were here to save me; to rescue me. I heard footsteps on the stairs and opened my door and I ran into his arms. "Maggie, don't worry. We're here to get you out of here. I'll help you pack."

We went into my room and I started packing up my clothes while George folded my blanket and turned my cot over. "George, can you vacate the room while I change?"

George looked at me properly for the first time. "You're going to change into normal clothes just to go across the street?"

"Well, at least allow me to put on a brassiere?"

George smiled. "I honestly don't think you need one."

"Don't be perverted, George," I swatted him away from me and pushed him out the door.

I put on my bra and brushed my hair. I took a last glance around the room before exiting my old bedroom. When I got to the hall, George had my trunk in his arms. Louise and Harry were there, smiling at me. Tolly didn't look too happy with the predicament she was in but what else could she do? I was fifteen now so she really couldn't stop me from going.

"Madame Tolbert, could I have a pencil and a piece of paper?"

"Why," she asked me grumpily.

"I want to write a goodbye to the girls; the girls who aren't as lucky as I am."

"If you leave, you've lost the chance to say goodbye to them," she replied, crossing her arms.

For the first time in my life, I stood up to her. "You are an awful human being. All these girls here are orphans. We've all either lost our parents or been dumped her by parents that don't want us. And you treat us worse than dirt. None of us want to be postulants. We don't have to be adopted to live normal lives outside of these prison walls."

"Get out. Now," she snarled between her teeth. "And don't you ever let me see you again."

"It would be my pleasure, Madame Tolb—Tolly!" Louise took my arm as Harold helped George with my trunk. We made the trek across the yard and into their house before I shrieked in happiness. "Thank you all so much," I proclaimed, hugging George round the neck.

"My dear," I told you before that you were always welcome here," Louise said. "George, show Maggie where she will sleep. We'll help you unpack in the morning."

George took my trunk and headed up the stairs. My room was right next to Georges' room. "Here, you get my sister's old room."

I walked into my new room and breathed a sigh of relief. I turned to face George. "Thank you, really."

"You heard Mum," he blushed, walking over towards me. "It's nothing you need to thank us for." I put my hands on his chest and looked into his chestnut eyes. "We're really glad you're here, Mags."

"But no one more than you, right?"

George smiled down at me and kissed the top of my forehead. As he lifted his head from mine, I locked my fingers behind his neck, keeping his head there. I leaned forward as he leaned down again and our lips met. It was a chaste kiss, really. Our lips stayed locked for a few seconds before the kiss ended. "Can you imagine what the guys would say if they knew?"

I quirked my eyebrow, "Knew that you're a good snog? I don't think they want to know that, George dear."

He rolled his eyes and put his hands on either side of my waist. "No, you silly goose. That I love you."

I smiled. "Hate to break it to you kid, but they know that already."

"No, again, you're wrong. I'm _in love_ with you, Maggie." I heard myself gasp at his confession. "I know I'm only fifteen; we're only fifteen, but, Margaret Hargreaves, I am in love with you. I love you eight days a week."

I smiled at him. "I'm not in love with you George but I'm sure I'll fall for you eventually."

He brushed my bangs out of my eyes and bent his head again. Our lips met once more but this time there was a fiery fervor in this kiss that I'd never experienced with him before. George's arms wrapped themselves around my waist and pulled me flush with his body. My hands travelled from his neck to his hair. I wound my fingers into his auburn curls and tried to pull him closer to me. I felt his tongue softly flick out to touch my lower lip. I gasped with the contact and my lips parted slightly. George then took over completely and his tongue delved into my mouth. We fought for the upper hand for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, needing to breathe, I released his lips from mine.

Both of us had matching ragged breathing. George laughed and I started to laugh with him.

**George POV**

In the following weeks of her living with us, my mates happened to find out about our secret relationship.

Cynthia happened to notice the way we walked close to each other, how our hands always found themselves being held by the other and our long, heated glances across the room during rehearsals. Sometimes I'd get lost in her eyes and forget what we were playing and we'd have to start over. Cyn came up to me one day after rehearsal.

"So, George, how long have you been in love with her?" I tried to look confused by her question. But it did work for she continued. "Don't play stupid with me, Harry. I can see it in your eyes. You're in love with Margaret Hargreaves Maggie."

I sighed. "Yes, I'm in love with her, and could you not mention this to the guys?"

Cyn giggled. "Trust me, I won't have to. It's fairly noticeable the way you two look at each other." She walked away towards John and I groaned inwardly.

Maggie joined me then and cocked her head to the side seeing the distress on my face. "What's wrong, love?"

"Cynthia just asked me how long I've been in love with you. She knows, Maggie. I can't lie very well."

Maggie glanced around the room to Cynthia, who was passing over a knowing glance. "Well, if she knows it's only a matter of time that the others figure it out."

"Cyn suggests she already does," I said, remembering back to the conversation. Maggie got a sly look on her face and smiled wryly. "What," I asked, starting to back up.

"Well if they're going to find out we might as well be the ones to tell them."

I nodded. "Sure, we'll tell them soon."

Maggie shook her head. "Not soon, George, now." And she ran into me and pulled my lips down to hers and kissed me. I would've played it off as a mistake but I couldn't. As soon as her lips met mine I lost it and kissed her back. I took my shocked arms at my side to her waist and held her against me. After about ten seconds she released my hair from her vice-grip hands and broke the kiss.

I heard Peter Best cough and Pete Shotton let out a shocked "huh." I glanced over at them and Paul had dropped his glass coke bottle. John's eyes had widened the size of saucers while Cyn had the largest smile on her face.

"Okay, guys, very funny," Shotton said.

Maggie looked hurt. "I kiss George with that much fervor and you think it's a joke?"

Pete just nodded. Peter raised his hand like he was answering a question in school. "I've got a question, George."

"This outta be good," I heard John mumble to Paul, who nodded his agreement.

"Why?"

"Why what," I asked, crossing my arms over my chest.

"Why, of all of the beautiful girls out there, you had to pick the one that's not?"

I rolled my eyes. "You need to ask John for his glasses, because you're not seeing the same person we all see when we look at her. She's gorgeous," I said, maliciously.

Maggie continued. "You obviously thought so, as you tried to rape me."

It was the first time she had spoken of the incident since it happened seven months ago.

"I didn't try to rape you," Pete said sardonically.

"Oh, really," Maggie said. "What would you call it then? As I recall, you came up from behind me, covered your hand around my mouth and told me not to scream as you started to rub against me." Everyone was staring at either Maggie or Pete. "So, tell me, what would else would you call that other than attempted rape. I'm sure if Paul hadn't come out looking for you, you would've."

"And you would've let me," Pete said back at her.

"You mother fucking prick," Cynthia screamed at Pete, her face red with anger. "She wouldn't have let you. You would've made her. That's kind of the definition of rape; nonconsensual shagging."

Maggie had started towards Pete's kit and I held her back. She struggled against my hold but I held on. "You are an arse, Peter Best!"

"Pete, I think it's best if you left now," John said, holding Cynthia back too.

Pete stood up, "With pleasure," he agreed.

After he left Maggie sagged against me. "I hate him. I hate him with everything in me."

I held Maggie against my chest in a hug. Cynthia was in the same state. "We have to get him out of the band," Paul said.

"Yeah, but who will play kit," John asked.

I lifted my head. "What about that Starr guy that played for you at the carnival?"

John seemed to ponder this intrigue. "Pete is just confused at the moment. Maggie, I know you two don't get along and that you're angry at him but he's our drummer. I'm not kicking him out."

"Confused, John? He's_ confused_? No, John; he's sick. He's sick, demented and sad. I know this is your band and I'm just George's girl. So as long as he's around, I won't be," and Maggie picked up her bag and went upstairs.

"That's a real nice attitude, Lennon," I said, rounding on him.

Paul stepped in between us. "Hey, let's just calm down."

"Tell me, John," I said, ignoring my best mate. "What would you do if Pete would've tried something like that with Cynthia? Would you let him stay on the kit?"

"Unfortunately, Harrison, this is my band. If you don't like my leadership skills, you can pack up too."

I stared at him for a minute, trying to decide who he was turning into. "Just remember one thing, I can play anything better than you can. Practice is over now, get out."

I watched them all file out, Cyn hugging me on her way to the stairs. I went up after the front door had slammed shut to find Maggie on the sofa staring at the silent wireless. I sat down next to her and took her hand in mine. "You never told me."

Maggie turned her head to look at me. "You never asked, and besides, I didn't think it needed to be talked about."

"Didn't need to be talked about? Maggie, he almost took advantage of you," I said making her look into my eyes. "If that doesn't need to be talked about what does?"

"George," she pleaded, pulling my hands off of her face. "I really don't want to talk about it; to anyone. He was pissed drunk. I'm pretty sure would he have been sober it wouldn't have happened. I love you, George. You're an amazing person, a great friend and a wonderful young man. I'm glad I met you all those years ago. But please, don't pressure me to talk about something I don't want to talk about," she said matter-of-factly. Maggie closed her eyes and breathed a heavy sigh. "Maybe someday I will want to talk about it but not today or even tomorrow."

I took her soft hand in my calloused one and pulled her up. "Stay there," I commanded and started sifting through Mum's records until I found the one I wanted.

'Sea of Love' started playing and I bowed in front of Maggie. "May I have this dance, my lady?"

She giggled and blushed and took my hand. I started twirling her around the room, singing to her in my shitty false bass. We locked eyes as the song neared the end and when the song ended the dead noise floated into the room. "I love you, George."

"I love you too, Maggie."

"No, George; I've fallen in love with you, finally."

I searched her eyes for a trace of a punch line starting but I couldn't find one. I gently kissed her lips, not wanting Mum or Dad to find us. "Want to go get a malted?"

Maggie looked at her watch. "It's quarter til nine, Harry."

"Yeah, it's Friday. The shoppe is open til ten on weekend nights."

She smiled as I offered her my arm. "Let's go, George. The night awaits."

* * *

A/N: Chapter three. What does everyone think?


	4. Can't Buy Me Love

**Maggie May**

**Chapter Four: Can't Buy Me Love**

**February 31, 1960**

George was now seventeen. I couldn't believe we had known each other for seven years already. It didn't really seem legitimate to me that six years had gone by so fast. We were sitting at the kitchen table; me doing my sums and he, writing. George had dropped out of formal education and was now working as an electrician with his brother Peter who was 20. The Quarrymen were still doing gigs around town, but mostly at the Cavern Club in downtown Liverpool. On occasion, Louise and Harold would pick up John and drive us three to the Cavern where they'd meet up with Paul and Pete Best. In December, Pete Shotton had to go into the working world or go to the army so, he decided to work in for sawmill with his dad. Shotton always went to gigs in the Cavern, but would stand with me and Cynthia. I had recently been admitted to the Institute where Paul and John went to (though the latter wasn't too enthused or too happy to be there at all. I'm sure if his aunt didn't make him go, he'd drop out like George.)

I got good grades in school, and I enjoyed the classroom environment. I had made a few mates too. Gwen was a red-head who had a flare for the dramatics. Ellen was a sweet girl with freckles all over her face and Darren was a small boy that enjoyed reassembling motorbikes. I don't really know how we all became friends but we all were. At first, George was a little jealous of Darren handing around me. However when I reassured George that Darren was just a friend and nothing more, he lighted his mood and Darren became George's friend too.

George put his pencil down and flexed his fingers; cramped from writing. He took his hand and grabbed mine from my sums homework and kissed the back of my hand. "George, I'm trying to finish my homework."

"I know," George said, keeping my hand in his.

"Well, how am I going to do my homework when you've got my hand," I asked him.

George handed me the pencil. "Use your right hand."

"But I'm left-handed, George. If I do my sums with my right hand it'll look like John's sister wrote it," I said exasperatedly.

"I'll write them then," he replied, pulling my page towards him. Looking over the sums sheet, his brow furrowed. "What the hell is this?"

"Algebra."

"What the fuck is algebra?" I just giggled, finally breaking my hand free of his. I slid the page over to me and continued my arithmetic. Picking up his pencil he said, "I'm glad I left school. How is algebra going to help me in a band?"

"George, I'm not planning on using this in my life. I just want to get good grades so I can get into a good university."

"University," George asked. "What do you need university for?"

"It's because I want to further my education, George. Is there anything wrong with that?"

"No. Maggie," He started, taking my hand again. "The boys are thinking of going to Hamburg, Germany."

I furrowed my eyebrows. "Hamburg?"

"Yeah. It's a pretty swinging place for musicians and artists. More swinging than Liverpool, that is."

"Oh," I said stupidly.

He rubbed this thumb over my hand. "What's going on in there," he asked me gesturing towards my head.

"I'm just wondering how five boys that are all so broke their poor are going to get to Hamburg and survive."

"We hadn't really worked that out yet, actually," he replied slowly.

I smirked. "Maybe you should, George. Your mum has always been supportive…"

"She won't supply us with enough money to get to Hamburg," he said shaking his head.

I bit my lip, as I thought of a perfect solution.

* * *

Later that night at Stu's flat the boys were rehearsing for a gig on Saturday. Cyn was there but she was doing her schoolwork. I had finished mine before I left that night. The pocket of my overcoat was burning with the weight of knowledge it held in it.

I held the future in my pocket, really.

After rehearsal was over, Cyn closed her textbook and put her pencil down. I looked at her notebook and saw she had written six pages of notes out again. She came over to the sofa and slumped into John's chest. "This school thing is going to kill us, Cyn."

She turned to me and smirked. "You have no idea."

George had put his guitar away and gotten a coke from Stu's fridge. "Er—guys?" They all turned to me. "Suddenly I've forgotten how to string two words together." There was a collective chuckle at my stab at humour. "George told me something about how a city in Germany has piqued your interests."

George closed his eyes like, and gathering from everyone elses looks towards him, he wasn't supposed to tell anyone about Hamburg. Cyn looked confused. "What?"

"Way to go, idiot," John said.

"Look," I stated. "I don't care if he was supposed to tell or not, he did and I came up with a solution as to how you're getting there."

This had piqued the interests of everyone in the room. "How," Stu asked.

"Me," I said simply.

"Not sure I follow," Paul said.

I let out a breath before starting. "Mum and Dad both left an awful lot of money to me after their deaths. I am an only child to two only children. Technically, I can't touch any of it until I'm eighteen. But, as I live with the Harrison's my legal guardians are George's parents. If they sign a bank statement, giving me permission to have at the money before next May, you can have it."

"We're not taking your money, Maggie," John said.

I turned to him. "How else are you going to get there? You're not going to be discovered in Liverpool, that's for sure, and you're all too good to be stuck here. You all need to go and get educated in the world. You're all so naïve and innocent. Hamburg will open your eyes to a lot of things."

Cyn took my hand. "You're willing to give up your inheritance to them?"

"I'll pay for plane tickets and you'll each get £100 note that will be used for band use only: new strings, an amplifier, microphones, costs to book gigs and make a record; not for fags or booze."

George put his coke down on the coffee table and hugged me. It was an awkward hug as I was sitting and he was standing. "You're an angel, really," he whispered to me, kissing my nose.

I scrunched up my nose, "You're a terrible romantic." George stuck his tongue out at me. "Don't make me put that thing to good use."

"Gross," Paul complained.

John got off the sofa and knelt down in front of me. "The only way I'll let you do this is if you pay for a plane ticket for yourself."

"John, I'm not going with you," I spoke sadly. "I'm staying here."

I glanced at George who looked at me sadly. John waited until I looked at him again. He looked into my eyes for a minute before speaking again. "You are the single most selfless person I've ever met. You're willingly giving money to five teenage boys who are going to another country in search of a future and you're not going to follow us to make sure we don't spend it unwisely?"

"I have faith in you, Johnny," I smiled. "Something you should learn to have in yourself." John moved to sit next to me. He never broke eye contact and his liquid toffee coloured eyes were hard to look away from. Then, without reservation at all, he kissed me full on the mouth. It was only a few seconds and chaste but that was enough to make my pulse speed up and my mind to go temporarily fuzzy. "What was that for?"

"For loving all of us like a sister, a friend; for loving all of us the way a woman should."

We all left Stu's flat and pitched in for a dinner for us all, goofing off and just spending quality time together. For me, it felt like the last time I'd see them all so free, so loving.

* * *

**George**

**March 24, 1960**

Something changed in Maggie that day. She was more distant towards us, she spent a lot of after school hours in the library and she didn't come to our rehearsals much anymore, even when they were at our house.

I had an inkling John's kiss had something to do with it. He was one of those guys that got every girl he wanted whether she wanted him or not. I couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy for him. At the next rehearsal I didn't talk to him, I didn't look at him, I left right away without so much as an hello to him.

I'm guessing he waited until everyone else left Stu's before he came over. There was a knock on the door. I heard Mum answer it as I was in my room. "Hello, Mrs. Harrison, is George about?"

"It's Louise for the last time, John. He's upstairs in his room."

Bracing myself for a full frontal assault I sat up on my bed and flipped through a magazine. "George," John asked, knocking softly on my door.

"Yeah, come in."

John slid the door open a crack and slid in. "Are you alright, George?"

"No I'm not well," I snapped.

He sat down on my bed. "What's wrong?"

"Maggie."

"Maggie is wrong?"

"Yeah," I sighed. "I think she likes someone else and I don't know what to do about it."

"Have you talked to her about this," John asked me, talking to me like an equal and not a young kid.

I got up and paced in front of him. "She's never around long enough for me to talk to her. She goes to the library to study after school, I'm not asking her at dinner in front of my family and after dinner she showers then goes to bed. I haven't said more than a few sentences to her in a month," I said, quitting my pacing to face him and added, "And it's your fault."

John's brow furrowed. "How is it my fault?"

"You kissed her. You kissed her and now she wants you but she can't have you without getting rid of me and Cynthia first and she's such a _selfless person_ that she won't hurt Cyn or my feelings in order to get to you, so she's avoiding me hoping that I'll break up with her. Well it won't work, Margaret, darling."

John stood up and took hold of my shoulders. "George, George, calm down. You're reading too much into this. Has it ever occurred she's distancing herself from you so when we all leave she doesn't miss you as much."

"But she's coming with us," I replied, furrowing my brow.

"No I'm not, George," Maggie's voice said, entering my room.

I closed my eyes. "How much of that did you hear?"

"All of it," she said steadily. "George, I thought we had gotten over this jealously thing of yours with Darren?"

"Who's Darren," John asked.

"Never you mind," Maggie said. Turning to me she continued, "No offense to John but I don't have incriminating feelings for him. George, I love you. However, John is right, for once."

"Hey, abuse," John retorted.

Ignoring him, Maggie took my hands in hers. "I'm not going with you. I'm staying here. And I'm going to miss you all, but I'm going to miss you the most. That's why I haven't been around a lot. I'm preparing what life will be like without you."

I wiped the tear that had escaped from her face and put my hands on either side of her face. "No matter the distance between us two, you'll always have me and I'll always have you."

I dipped my head and kissed her trying my hardest to persuade her to go with us.

* * *

a/n a little shorter but this is where i wanted to end it.


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